liked topreserve; as a matter of fact, he was rather fond of it. There hadbeen some complaints about expense when the Throne Room and thecostume arrangement were first set up, but the FBI and the Governmenthad finally decided that it was better and easier to humor HerMajesty.
Malone spent ten minutes dressing himself magnificently in hose anddoublet, slash-sleeved, ermine-trimmed coat, lace collar, and plumedhat. By the time he presented himself at the door to the Throne Roomhe felt almost cheerful. It had been a long time since he had enteredthe world of Elizabethan knighthood over which Her Majesty held sway,and it always made him feel taller and more sure of himself. He bowedto a chunkily-built man of medium height in a stiffly brocaded jacket,carrying a small leather briefcase. The man had a whaler's beard ofblond-red hair that looked slightly out of period, but the costumemanaged to overpower it. "Dr. Lord?" Malone said.
The bearded man peered at him. "Ah, Sir Kenneth," he said. "Yes, yes.Just been giving Her Majesty a few tests. Normal weekly check, youknow."
"I know," Malone said. "Any change?"
"Change?" Lord said. "In Her Majesty? Sir Kenneth, you might as wellexpect the very rocks to change. Her Majesty remains Her Majesty--andwill, in all probability, throughout the foreseeable future."
"The same as ever?" Malone asked hopefully.
"Exactly," Lord said. "But--if you do want background on the case--I'mflying back to New York tonight. Look me up there, if you have achance. I'm afraid there's little information I can give you, but it'salways a pleasure to talk with you."
"Thanks," Malone said dully.
"Barrow Street," Lord said with a cheery wave of the briefcase."Number 69." He was gone. The Security Officer at the door, a youngman in the uniform of a page, opened it and peered out at Malone. TheFBI Agent nodded to him and the Security Officer announced in a firm,loud voice: "Sir Kenneth Malone, of Her Majesty's Own FBI!"
The Throne Room was magnificent. The whole place had been done inplastic and synthetic fibers to look like something out of theSixteenth Century. It was as garish, and as perfect, as a Hollywoodmovie set--which wasn't surprising, since two stage designers had beenhired away from color-TV spectaculars to set it up. At the far end ofthe room, past the rich hangings and the flaming chandeliers, was agreat golden throne, and on it Her Majesty was seated.
Lady Barbara Wilson, Her Majesty's personal nurse, was sitting on acamp-chair arrangement nearby. She smiled slowly at Malone as he wentby, and Malone returned the smile with a good deal of interest. Hestrode firmly down the long crimson carpet that stretched from thedoorway to the throne. At the steps leading up toward the dais thatheld the Throne, his free hand went up and swept off the plumed hat.He sank to one knee.
"Your Majesty," he said gravely.
The queen looked down on him. "Rise, Sir Kenneth," she said in a toneof surprise. "We welcome your presence."
Malone got up off his knee and stood, his hat in his hand.
"What is your business with us?" Her Majesty asked.
Malone looked her full in the face for the first time. He realizedthat her expression was rather puzzled and worried. She looked evenmore confused than she had the last time he'd seen her.
He took a deep breath, wished for a cigar and plunged blindly aheadinto the toils of court etiquette.
"Your Majesty," he said, "I know full well that you are aware of thethoughts that I have had concerning the case we have been working on.I beg Your Majesty's pardon for having doubted Your Majesty's RoyalWord. Since my first doubts, of which I am sore ashamed, I have beeninformed by Our Majesty's Royal Psychiatrist that my doubts wereill-founded, and I wish to convey my deepest apologies. Now, havingbeen fully convinced of the truth of Your Majesty's statements, I havea theory I would discuss with you, the particulars of which you candoubtless see in my mind."
He paused. Her Majesty was staring at him, her face pale.
"Sir Kenneth," she said in a strained voice, "we appreciate yourattitude. However--" She paused for a moment, and then continued."However, Sir Kenneth, it is our painful duty to inform you--"
She stopped again. And when she managed to speak, she had dropped allpretense of Court Etiquette.
"Sir Kenneth, I've been so worried! I was afraid you were dead!"
Malone blinked. "Dead?" he asked.
"For the past twenty-four hours," Her Majesty said in a frightenedvoice, "I've been unable to contact your mind. And right now, as youstand there, I can't read anything!
"It's as though you weren't thinking at all!"
PART 3
IX
Malone stared at Her Majesty for what seemed like a long time. "Notthinking at all?" he said at last, weakly. "But I _am_ thinking. Atleast, I _think_ I am." He suddenly felt as if he had gone ReneDescartes one better. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.
Her Majesty regarded Malone for an interminable, silent second. Thenshe turned to Lady Barbara. "My dear," she said, "I would like tospeak to Sir Kenneth alone. We will go to my chambers."
Malone, feeling as though his brain had suddenly turned to quincejelly, followed the two women out of a small door at the rear of theThrone Room, and into Her Majesty's private apartments. Lady Barbaraleft them alone with some reluctance, but she'd evidently been gettingused to following her patient's orders. Which, Malone thought withadmiration, must take a lot of effort for a nurse.
The door closed and he was alone with the Queen. Malone opened hismouth to speak, but Her Majesty raised a monitory hand. "Please, SirKenneth," she said. "Just a moment. Don't say anything for a littlebit."
Malone shut his mouth. When the minute was up, Her Majesty began tonod her head, very slowly. Her voice, when she spoke, was low andcalm.
"It's as though you were almost invisible," she said. "I can see youwith my eyes, of course, but mentally you are almost completelyindetectable. Knowing you as well as I do, and being this close toyou, it is just possible for me to detect very faint traces ofactivity."
"Now, wait a minute," Malone said. "I am thinking. I know I am. Maybeit's not me. Your telepathy might be fading out temporarily, orsomething like that. It's possible, isn't it?" He was reasonably sureit wasn't, but it was a last try at making sense. Her Majesty shookher head.
"I can still receive Sir Thomas, for instance, quite clearly," shesaid. She seemed a little miffed, but the irritation was overpoweredby her worry. "I think, Sir Kenneth, that you just don't know your ownpower, that's all. I don't know how, but you've managed somehow tosmother telepathic communication almost completely."
"But not quite?" Malone said. Apparently, he was thinking, but veryweakly. Like a small child, he told himself dismally. Like a smallElizabethan child.
Her Majesty's face took on a look of faraway concentration. "It's likelooking at a very dim light," she said, "a light just at the thresholdof perception. You might say that you've got to look at such a lightsideways. If you look directly at it, you can't see it. And, ofcourse, you can't see it at all if you're a long way off." Sheblinked. "It's not exactly like that, you understand," she finished."But in some ways--"
"I get the idea," Malone said. "Or I think I do. But what's causingit? Sunspots? Little green men?"
"Not so little," Her Majesty said with some return of her old humor,"and not green, either. As a matter of fact, _you_ are, Sir Kenneth."
Malone opened his mouth, shut it again and finally managed to say:"Me?" in a batlike squeal of surprise.
"I don't know how, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty went on, "but you are.It's ... rather frightening to me, as a matter of fact; I've neverseen such a thing before. I've never even considered it before."
"You?" Malone said. "How about me?" It was like suddenly discoveringthat you'd been lifting two-hundred-pound barbells and not knowing it."How could I be doing anything like that without knowing anythingabout it?"
Her Majesty shook her head. "I haven't the faintest idea," she said.
But Malone, very suddenly, did. He remembered deciding to keep a closecheck on his mental processes to make sure those
bursts of energydidn't do anything to him. Subconsciously, he knew, he was stillkeeping that watch.
And maybe the watch itself caused the complete blanking of histelepathic faculties. It was worth a test, at least, he decided. Andit was an easy test to make.
"Listen," he said. He told himself that he would now allowcommunication between himself and Her Majesty--and only between thosetwo. Maybe it wasn't